


I don't understand his clothes

by olivebranchesandredwine (DocOlive)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 09:53:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19885681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DocOlive/pseuds/olivebranchesandredwine
Summary: Clint Brewer has a lot to think about when Patrick brings David to visit.





	I don't understand his clothes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cinnaluminum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnaluminum/gifts).



> Thank to [cinnaluminum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnaluminum/pseuds/cinnaluminum) for the prompt for this drabble. This is my first attempt at anything other than smut-centric David/Patrick fic, so I'm curious to see what y'all think. As always, all the love to the patrons of the Rosebudd Motel on discord. Hit me up on [tumblr](http://olivebranchesandredwine.tumblr.com) if you want to check in.

Clint was nervous. Having Patrick back in the house now felt, in so many ways, like absolutely nothing had changed; he could still see the curious little boy with bright eyes and unruly curls in the confident, compassionate, self-assured man making his way around the kitchen, clearing dishes and encouraging everyone else to go sit in the living room. He’d always been so eager to help out, such a good kid.

“Thanks for dinner, guys. I’ll take care of clean up. Why don’t you go relax?” Patrick balanced a stack of plates on one arm as he reached over to grab another glass from the table.

Marcy beamed up at their son, “Thank you, my sweet boy,” her voice gentle and proud.

“I’ll be out in a few,” Patrick continued, his attention now directed to loading dishes into the dishwasher.

Patrick had only been back in the house for a few hours, but he’d already fallen back into the patterns of decades past, sliding into the chores of his youth, as if working from muscle memory. Only this time, with fewer grumbled teenage complaints. Clint felt his whole face breaking into a smile at the sight. He reached for Marcy’s elbow and heralded her toward the living room, leaving Patrick to his work.

It was good to have Patrick home. He’d missed his boy, and seeing him back here—moving around his childhood home like nothing had changed, like no time had passed—made his heartfill with warmth. _This is right; everything is how it’s supposed to be._

But as much as everything felt so right in this moment, Clint couldn’t help but feel the residual ache of what they’d missed over the past few years. Of how he’d stood by, letting Patrick pull away, distance himself from both of them, unable to understand what was happening. _Unable,_ he pondered, for the thousandth time, _or unwilling? Was it something I did to push my boy away?_ As much as he tried to push the intrusive thoughts away, Clint still mourned the years he felt that he lost with his son as Patrick had struggled and felt lost in the life that Clint had pushed him into, the same life that had brought Clint so much joy. The life that had suffocatedPatrick, made him flee hours away to the town with the ridiculous name. He felt that familiar sting as his eyes welled up, and turned away from his wife to surreptitiously wipe the unshedtears away. In the months since Patrick’s birthday, they’d both shed so many tears for what they’d missed, for their failure to recognize their son’s unhappiness for so long.

But now was not the time for tears, Clint reminded himself. Because this visit was different. Patrick was different. _They_ were different. And it was all thanks to the man currently pacing the length of their living room, phone to his ear, other arm gesticulating wildly, his voice somewhat frantic as he spoke. He was dressed head to toe in white, his shirt emblazoned with the words WILD ALOOF REBEL.

“ _Alexis,_ you can’t just take a two hour lunch break in the middle of open hours. We’ve had thatdelivery scheduled for weeks. I can’t believe I let Patrick talk me into letting you….BECAUSE IT IS _INCORRECT!…_ This is like the tamogotchis all over again….Oh my god you absolutely _cannot_ just flatten the lip balm you used and put it back in the display…” David’s voice got louder and shriller after each interruption. With an amused grin, Clint bit back a laugh as he watched his son’s fiancé walk circles around the sofa, arguing with his sister. It reminded Clint of his own siblings and how, even now, arguments would move fluidly between present and long-past slights. It tickled him to see how close his future son-in-law ( _son-in-law!_ ) was with his family, especially since he had learned how difficult the road to that closeness had been for David.

Marcy didn’t, maybe _couldn’t_ , hold back her own laughter, which alerted David to their presence. “Oh…um, I need to go, Alexis,” David announced, startled at the interruption, “just…just please don’t leave the store unattended like that again. And…um, thank you for doing this. I appreciate it.” He breathed last part so softly his voice was barely above a whisper, and, Clint noticed, his cheeks flushed as he spoke. _He’s a good man; my son’s found himself a good man._

“I’m sorry about that. I just needed to clear up something with my sister,” David said, shyly, eyes downturned. “I didn’t mean to interrupt dinner.”

“No need to apologize, son,” Clint responded. “Patrick said this is the first time you’ve both been away from the store since it opened. It has to be a little nerve-wracking.”

“We’re both just so glad you could come, David,” Marcy spoke warmly, moving close to David and reaching out for a hug. Clint watched David’s whole body just sink into his wife’s arms, and felt another pang of heartache, this time for the man who had changed his son’s life in the best possible way, for all of the hurt and disappointment he’d experienced. To see him melt so completely into Marcy’s embrace reminded Clint of just how much both men brought into each other’s lives. He knew the Roses were good, caring people, but also knew that they expressed their affection in different ways. And when he saw David responding to Marcy’s maternal touches, he was reminded just how much David’s relationship with his parents now was still developing. That he’d grown up without the same kind of physical affection that the Brewers took for granted. Again, Clint felt the sting of unshed tears.

“Thanks for inviting me, Mr. and Mrs. Brewer,” David answered, his voice muffled as he was still curled down into Marcy’s arms. Clint found himself ready to chuckle at the jarring disconnect before him—this tall and strong young man in his WILD ALOOF REBEL shirt wrapped so delicately in the arms of his future mother-in-law, holding on to Marcy like she was a life-preserver in the midst of a storm.

Clint’s mind wandered back to Patrick’s surprise party, tothe day he met David Rose. _“I don’t understand his clothes,”_ he’d said to Patrick, still in awe of how fiercely David had been ready to fight for his son when he didn’t know how they’d respond, how he had sought to protect Patrick from heartbreak had their reaction been anything less than complete acceptance. _Aloof?_ David was anything but, especially when it came to the love of his life. David Rose was, without a doubt, the most loving partner Clint could imagine for his son, and he was so _so_ thankful that Patrick had him in his life.

“Of course, David, you’re _always_ welcome here,” Marcy replied, and Clint could tell without looking that her voice was thick with tears. “You brought our son back to us, sweet boy. You’re family. Thank you so much.” 

“Yes, son. You’re stuck with us. You’re part of the Brewer clan now,” Clint hoped that his voice came out light, even as he still fought back tears. “And that means none of the Mr. and Mrs. Brewer stuff, ok?” David, somewhat reluctantly, straightened up a bit from Marcy’s hug so that he could look Clint in the eye. He didn’t try to wipe away the tear streaking down his face. 

“Yes, sir… _Clint,_ ” David said, “Thank you.” Clint pulled his future son-in-law—no, his new _son_ —into his arms, hugging him fiercely and letting his own tears flow. “No, son. _Thank you._ ”


End file.
